


Round Trip

by carminesbodycollector



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Fantasy, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-21 06:48:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11352087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carminesbodycollector/pseuds/carminesbodycollector
Summary: A soldier and a disgraced alchemist chained to one another. Together they search the kingdom, looking for a genetic weapon created by militant traitors. All the while, a cult schemes to being war once again.





	Round Trip

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first original work on this site. I hope you enjoy it.

Silence dominated the king’s office. Through the domed window, the cold wind of winter brushed against a pair of dark purple curtains. Each one held white lace embroidery, melting into golden thread. As they moved, each brushed in turn against the sides of the king’s carved wood chair, his shoulder length greying hair moving with them. Several jeweled rings clinked together as yellow eyes stared at the pair of guards and young man in chains before him. 

How could things have fallen so far? Slowly, he looked between the soldiers, one around the same age as himself. The general ran a hand through short brown hair, silver metal shining in the light, polished just hours ago for the festival that could be heard through the open window. Each lively note was a contrast to the oppressive, serious mood of the room. The crest of the kingdom he served could be seen emblazoned on the front of his chestplate as he shifted his weight. Something like this had never occurred before and, for a soldier who lived and breathed the manual, it had caught him off guard. 

Beside him stood a younger soldier who watched their captive with a look of disgust on his pale features. His own armor shone just as his superior’s did. However it was much less ornate, no gold, no large crest, only the essentials needed to guard his body from attack. The purple eyes of the eighteen year old glared at the man responsible for their meeting and if he had not been in the presence of the king, he would have gladly taken him out into the woods on the edge of the palace grounds and beaten him nearly to death before slitting his throat. 

Outside, the people danced and sang to the music of the opening ceremonies. Soon the group within the office would have to leave if they wanted to see any of the festivities. All but the youngest, who simply wanted to go so he could receive his latest mission. 

“Treason is a strong word.” The voice of the prisoner was smooth and dangerously saccharine as poisoned dark chocolate. Long blue-gray hair fell around his face, flowing past his shoulders even with part of the strands tied in a high ponytail behind him. He had been dragged from his mansion home in the city below and remained in his clothes. A black one sleeved robe hung on his body, a high slit at each side revealing long legs that rarely saw sun. On his uncovered arm, he wore a strip of cloth of the same color, a golden cord running from the back to the front. Down the center of his robe was a silver brocade, expensive in its luxury. The jewels, rings, and bracelets that normally adorned his hands were gone, confiscated as the prizes of corruption. Sapphire eyes that the king had once thought insightful now stared back at him with smug malice, as though their owner knew every dirty secret of the kingdom. 

“Quiet.” The younger guard swung his foot toward the bound man but abruptly paused just short of his target when he was ordered to stand down. Rustling of iron chains was the only indication that anything had moved as the prisoner shifted to look at the young soldier. With that, the room soon fell into silence once again. 

“A testy one, isn’t he?” The king ignored the prisoner’s words, instead shifting the myriad of papers before him. Hundreds of criminals had passed through his office, some violent, some, like the one before him, tame in their appearance. “Would you tell me exactly what sort of treason you’re so interested in?” 

There was little to do to avoid it. Shura would be disappointed, that the monarch knew. The only option left was this. Standing, he moved in front of his carved desk. “Captain, you were the one who found the evidence. Present it.” 

After handing his end of the chain to his superior, the white haired young soldier stepped forward, giving the prisoner a quick scowl as he came to stand before the king. With a bow, he pulled a thick folder, dog eared and overstuffed, from his leather bound bag. A few seconds of flipping through his notes passed before he pulled a mass of paper the size of his head from within. 

“Aldric Yeven-Datre,” he began, “on various occasions it has become apparent that you have willfully embezzled a total of 8.9 million sels from the imperial treasury beginning five years ago and continuing into the present day.” 

“And my accuser is?” The man received a sharp tug at the chain around his neck for his words. 

“The Internal Affairs Bureau of the Yzel military. Now, if I may proceed, your majesty.” The king gave a quick nod. “These documents contain records of your fraud, including attempts to commandeer the responsibilities of Royal Advisor Shura Ualo. You have forged his signature on multiple documents spanning a frame of time beginning three years prior and, as before, continuing into the present. Each of these pieces was gathered by myself, Captain Second Class Raleigh Frayt, along with other officers within the IAB. In accordance with the laws of Yzel and, awaiting the judgement of His Majesty King Kaelo Sranten II, you will be executed for these crimes, the sum of which constitute high treason.”

Kaelo watched the prisoner as the charges were read, noting each change, each movement he made. Less than one decade prior, he had seen the young man walk through the halls of the palace, eyes wide and awe struck at the size. 

A sudden crash caused the king to jerk his head toward the door. 

His eyes widened in surprise as he turned stare at the elderly advisor who had suddenly burst into the room. “Shura?” 

“Sire,” the man was speaking before he had even proceeded halfway into the room, “please.” 

Raleigh blinked between the two men, stunned and angry. How could soldiers not keep one old man from entering a room? He distinctly remembered telling them not to let the advisor out of their sight and yet here he stood, bent over and panting. 

Dark green robes rested on elderly shoulders, silver embroidery running along the hems. After a few moments of rest, he stood once more, reaching his full height, slightly shorter than the king. “My lord,” he began, despondent dark citrine eyes glanced back toward the prisoner. “Please refrain from killing him.”

Kaelo’s brow furrowed, shock evident on his features. “Shura,” he stated, “you know more than anyone here the charges leveled against him, what he has done to you and to Yzel. No matter your feelings on him, he must be executed.” 

Shura sighed, eyes closing in thought. Wrinkled hands brushed through hair that had once been thick, time having snatched all but a ring of greying blond strands from the advisor’s head. The faint cheers of the capitol’s residents in the town below were the only sounds. So much joy to be ruined soon ruined by bloodshed. 

“The festival,” Shura finally replied, “the people are so joyous. Don’t ruin the revelry with an execution.” 

“He could be kept in a cell until afterward,” Raleigh’s voice sounded from his place, a glare trained on the prisoner who remained perfectly still.

“Silence.” The general snapped at his subordinate. This was not the captain’s decision no matter how much effort and time he had put into building a case against a man whose official title was nothing more than advisor’s assistant. 

“What do you suggest?” The king turned to Shura, waiting for a response. Both men knew any answer would be tainted by the advisor’s own prejudice and prior connection with the prisoner. However, he was willing to listen. The man had been his friend for many years; he owed him at least the courtesy. 

“Make him work,” Shura responded almost too quickly, desperation coating his words. A huff from the captive young man was silenced by a kick to his side. “Bind him and conscript him into service. Freeze his estate as well. He has knowledge that would be wasted with death.” 

The self congratulatory chuckle Aldric gave at his mentor’s words earned him a sharp slap but the sound remained. “And who would you bind me to?” he asked, eyes shining with a twisted glee. Death would be fine; he had known from the first moment that the road he had taken would end there. Life was nothing more than a test, a test few studied for and even fewer passed. He enjoyed thinking that he was one of those who at least ranked as above average. 

“Your skill with a sword is subpar,” Shura admitted, making Aldric huff in annoyance, although he said nothing to counter the words. “But there are other jobs where your skills would be more useful.” He turned to Kaelo. “Your investigation bureau is lacking in scientific minds, is it not?” 

A look of confusion passed over the king’s face before the implications of what Shura was asking dawned on him. “You cannot be serious,” he balked, “even if what you ask was done, there is still the matter of his treason.” 

“Senile imbecile.” Aldric snapped, glaring at Shura. 

“One tour, and if he has not made contributions then his fate is in your hands, Your Majesty.” Shura ignored his former student, instead focusing on the king. Even so, all in the room could feel the regret radiating in waves from the elderly man. “He could be chained.” 

Aldric’s head snapped upward, eyes narrowing further. “To whom?” Kaelo asked. 

Shura paused. “Who is going on the next tour?” 

“I am, Sir.” The young captain spoke, although the hesitation was clear in his voice. He had done his job and found the traitor, why should he have to continue? However, if his king ordered it, he would submit to the chain. 

“Then to him,” Shura stated, “You were the one who discovered him, yes?” Raleigh gave a stiff nod in return. “He would be the perfect candidate.” 

Both parties seethed, but remained silent. 

“Very well,” Kaelo spoke, “take both to Idonna.” 

With the order given, the prisoner suddenly began to pull at his chains, clawing at his former mentor. “Kill me!” he snarled as the general yanked him backward. Shura turned away, staring at the festivities below as his student’s enraged screams echoed through the halls.


End file.
